


flipped

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, Middle School, Really cute, fluff oh god so much, how do i tag?? haha, humor I guess, im just really lazy to write my own stuff :((, oh i don't own the plot of flipped or the writing, romanceish ?, they are really young
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when they meet in second grade, luke hemmings falls instantly in love with his neighbor, michael clifford. michael, however, does not feel the spark. from that day forward, he tries hard to keep brash and unpredictable luke at bay. after six years, luke begins to feel that he was wrong about michael being the love of his life. unfortunately, that is just about the time that michael begins to think he was wrong about luke, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flipped

**Author's Note:**

> i dont own flipped or 5sos go figure.

**michael**

all i ever wanted is for luke hemmings to leave me alone. for him to back off - you know, just give me some  _space._

it all started the summer before second grade when our moving van pulled into his neighborhood. and since we're now about done with the  _eighth_ grade, that, my friend, makes more than half a decade of strategic avoidance and social discomfort.

he didn't just barge into my life. he barged and shoved and wedged his way into my life. did we invite him to get into our moving van and start climbing all over our boxes? no! but that's exactly what he did, taking over and showing off like only luke hemmings can.

my dad tried to stop him. "hey!" he says as he's catapulting himself on board. "what are you doing? you're getting mud everywhere!" so true, too. his shoes were, like, caked with the stuff.

he didn't hop out, though. instead, he planted his rear end on the floor and started pushing a big box with his feet. "don't you want some help?" he glanced my way. "it sure looks like you  _need_ it."

i didn't like the implication. and even though my dad had been tossing me the same sort of look all week, i could tell- he didn't like this boy either. "hey! don't do that," my dad warned him. "there are some really valuable things in that box."

"oh. well, how about this one?" the boy scoots over to a box labeled lenox and looks my way again. "we should push it together!"

"no,no,no!" my dad says, then pulls him up by the arm. "why don't you run along home? your mother's probably wondering where you are."

this was the beginning of my soon-to-become-acute awareness that the boy cannot take a hint. of any kind. does he zip on home like a kid should when they've been invited to leave? no. he says, "oh, my mom knows where i am. she said it was fine." then he points across the street and says, "we just live right over there."

my father looks to where he's pointing and mutters, "oh boy." then he looks at me and winks as he says, "michael, isn't it time for you to go inside and help your mother?"

i knew right off that this was a ditch play. and i didn't think about it until later, but ditch wasn't a play i'd run with my dad before. face it, pulling a ditch is not something discussed with dads. it's like, against parental law to tell your kid it's okay to ditch someone, no matter how annoying or  _muddy_ they might be. 

but there he was, putting the play in motion, and man, he didn't have to wink twice. i smiled and said, "sure thing!" then jumped off the lift gate and headed for my new front door.

i heard the boy coming after me but i couldn't believe it. maybe it just sounded like he was chasing me; maybe he was really going the other way. but before i got up the nerve to look, he blasted right past me, grabbing my arm and yanking me along.

this was too much. i planted myself and was about to tell him to get lost when the weirdest thing happened. i was making this big windmill motion to break away from him, but somehow on the downswing my hand wound up tangling into his. i couldn't believe it. there i was, holding the mud monkey's hand!

i tried to shake him off, but he clamped on tight and yanked me along, saying, "c'mon!"

my mom came out of the house and immediately got the world's sappiest look on her face. "well, hello," she says to luke.

"hi!"

i'm still trying to pull free, but the boy's got me in a death grip. my mom's grinning, looking at our hands and my fiery red face. "and what's your name, honey?"

"luke hemmings. i live right over there," he says, pointing with his unoccupied hand.

"well, i see you've meet my son," she says, still grinning away.

"uh-huh!"

finally i break free and do the only manly thing available when you're seven years old- i dive behind my mother.

mom puts her arm around me and says, "michael, honey, why don't you show luke around the house?"

i flash her help and warning signals with every part of my body, but she's not receiving. then  _she_ shakes  _me_ off and says, "go on."

luke would've tramped right in if my mother hadn't noticed his shoes and told him to take them off. and after those were off, my mom told him dirty socks had to go, too. luke wasn't embarrassed. not a bit. he just peeled them off and left them in a crusty heap on our porch.

i didn't exactly give him a tour. i locked myself in the bathroom instead. and after ten minutes of yelling back at him that no, i wasn't coming out anytime soon, things got quiet out in the hall. another ten minutes went by before i got the nerve to peek out the door.

no luke.

i snuck out and looked around, and yes! he was gone.

not a very sophisticated ditch, but hey, i was only seven.

my troubles were far from over, though. every day he came back, over and over again. "can michael play?" i could hear him asking from my hiding place behind the couch. "is he ready yet?" one time he even cut across the yard and looked through my window. i spotted him in the nick of time and dove under my bed, but man, that right there tells you something about luke hemmings. he's got no concept of personal space. no respect for privacy. the world is his playground, and watch out below- luke's on the slide!

lucky for me, my dad was willing to run block. and he did it over and over again. he told luke i was busy or sleeping or just plain gone. he was a lifesaver.

my sister, on the other hand, tried to sabotage me any chance she got. abigail's like that. she's four years older than me, and buddy, i've learned from watching her how not run your life. she's got antagonize written all over her. just look at her - not cross-eyed or with your tongue sticking out or anything- just  _look_ at her and you've started an argument. 

i used to knock-down-drag-out with her, but it's just not worth it. girls don't fight fair. they pull your hair and gouge you and pinch you; then they run off gasping to mommy when you try to defend yourself with a fist. then you get locked into time-out, and for what? no, my friend, the secret is dont snap the bait. let it dangle. swim around it. laugh it off. after a while they'll give up and try to lure someone else. 

at least that's the way it is with abigail. and the bonus of having her as a pain-in-the-rear sister was figuring out that this method works on everyone. teachers, jerks at school, even mom and dad. seriously. there's no winning arguments with your parents, so why get all pumped over them? it is way better to dive down and get out of the way than it is to get clobbered by some parental tidal wave.

the funny thing is, abigail's still clueless when it comes to dealing with mom and dad. she goes straight into thrash mode and is too busy drowning in the argument to take a deep breath and dive for calmer water.

and she thinks  _i'm_ stupid.

anyway, true to form, abigail tried to bait me with luke those first few days. she even snuck him past dad once and marched him all around the house, hunting me down. i wedged myself up on top shelf of my closet, and lucky for me, neither of them looked up. a few minutes later i heard dad yell at luke to get off the antique furniture, and once again, he got booted.

i don't think i went outside that whole first week. i helped unpack stuff and watched tv and just kind of hung around while my mom and dad arranged and rearranged the furniture, debating whether empire settees and french rococo tables should even be put in the same room.

so believe me, i was dying to go outside. but every time i checked through the window, i could see luke showing off in his yard. he'd be heading a soccer ball or doing high kicks with it or dribbling it up and down their driveway. and when he wasn't busy showing off, he'd just sit on the curb with the ball between his feet, staring at our house.

my mom didn't understand why it was so awful that "that cute little boy" held my hand. she thought i should make  _friends_ with him. "i thought you liked soccer, honey. why don't you go out there and kick the ball around?"

because  _i_ didn't want to be kicked around, that's why. and although i couldn't say it like that at the time, i still had enough sense at age seven and a half to know that luke hemmings was dangerous. 


End file.
